


By Chance

by takoyaki (tamagoyaki)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 02:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16188398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagoyaki/pseuds/takoyaki
Summary: Byakuran comes to a realization as he lays eyes on the brown haired man before him.'You guys aresocrushing on this guy.'In which Byakuran finds a non-Decimo Sawada Tsunayoshi on the outskirts of town, and all his alternate selves act as the peanut gallery.





	By Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Rarely do you see stories told from Byakuran's POV even though I find his ability to look into different worlds to be most intriguing.
> 
> I wanted to write a story where he could be happy with Tsuna regardless of his other world selves. This was the product of that.

It’s sort of an inside joke amongst all the Byakurans that are in existence. A common fact of life, if you will.

That is, to say, that the worlds where Sawada Tsunayoshi wields flames like Harry Potter does magic will always end up with the Byakuran of that world going insane in one way or another. Like an antagonist doomed to such a fate, written out by an author in some world beyond their fingertips.  An action story, if not a tale doomed to end in devastation – a Lelouch of Code Geass, except the Byakurans of such worlds have only ever fought for the amusement of watching their nemesis struggle.

“Uwah—!” A tiny figure slams up against him in a moment of carelessness for the both of them. Huge green framed glasses slip down the tiny face, lips parted in a panicked gasp. “I—I’m sorry-!”

This doesn’t seem to be such a world.

“I—I’ve stained your jacket.” Sawada Tsunayoshi bites down on his bottom lip, troubled. He wipes down Byakuran’s front with some napkins. “I-I’m _so_ sorry. I wasn’t looking the way I was walking when I really should and I – I swear I will pay for it if this doesn’t come off in the wash, I promise.”

He’s stressed, words tumbling into one another in panic-laced despair.

But in that moment, as Byakuran finds his gaze focusing too much on the heart-shape of his face; on the way teeth gnaws on lower lip in guilt; on how perfectly soft and endearing those brown locks are – and let’s not get him started on the milk chocolatey warmth in those eyes – Byakuran thinks, standing at the side of a bar in a café:

 _‘You guys are_ so _crushing on this guy.’_

The permanently noisy internal monologue goes dead silent at once.

Then comes the knee-jerk reaction of all his other-world selves to rise up with denials swallowed by a storm of other voices all blending into one.

Tsunayoshi’s saying something. And Byakuran shifts his attention back to him with practiced ease.

“—so sorry, I was just absorbed in my thoughts of what I should write for my next story, and that got me to think about the way I should start it off – the setting has to be gripping – and that led to more thoughts about the characters which was when I bumped into you and spilled my coffee on you – I’m _so, so_ sorry.” Tsunayoshi repeats again, eyes wide with visible tears on the ready to roll down his cheeks.

This brings back memories of a world where Sawada Tsunayoshi, Vongola Decimo-to-be, had used such a look to crawl his way up to the top.

Never had Byakuran quite understood the monster in that other him that screams and claws at his insides to stomp Sawada Tsunayoshi beneath his feet. But in retrospect, as he peers down at the alternative version of his would-be obsession, he thinks he feels him a little. Sawada Tsunayoshi _is_ an obsession-worthy subject—

 _‘It would be nice if you stop twisting my thoughts into what suits you.’_ Chuckles that Byakuran, displeasure lacing his words.

Tsunayoshi is still fussing over his jacket with his head dipped, taking his silence as anger.

“Aha.” Byakuran chuckles. That adorably fluffy head looks up, tears in eyes. “There’s no need to be so worried.” Periwinkle eyes soften. “It’s just a jacket.”

And Tsunayoshi stares up at him with wide eyes, like he can’t believe he’s saying that.

“You are… an author?” Byakuran tilts his head, watching the cute cuddly little thing gape up at him.

“Ah… y-yes.” Byakuran watches, enamoured, as colour blooms over pale cheeks at his own lag in response. Tsunayoshi reaches up and brushes the small bunch of locks at the nape of his neck shyly. “I-I’m a manga artist, to be more exact. An amateur artist.” Tsunayoshi bows from waist down. “O-Once again, I’m really sorry for ruining your jacket – Ouch-!”

He spilled more of his steaming coffee on his own hands.

“Like I said, it’s fine.” Byakuran chuckles, this time grabbing the napkins to wipe down the other’s hands.

Brown eyes peek at him from below brown tuffs, meek and precious.

Byakuran almost can’t believe himself at how daring he is.

Here they are, two rivals of another dimension, standing in a café tucked into the hidden corner of the city with snow piling up outside and warmth sinking in through clothes. Here they are, hands interlinked, Tsunayoshi’s hands – his tools of trade, Byakuran muses, stained and callused, but fragile as if to emphasize his darlingness – fitting into his palms just right. Byakuran would almost believe they are fated in that instance if not for the buzz at the back of his mind. The peanut gallery is obnoxious in their taunts.

“Here you go, Clumsy Artist-san,” Byakuran recovers his usual cattish smile, retracting his hands.

Tsunayoshi is nicely flustered by the nickname.

Byakuran chuckles and offers him a backwards wave.

“Try not to have any more coffee incidents, okay?”

The bell in the café’s entrance tinkle as he makes his escape.

A passing couple in the street shoots him an odd look for the brown stain on his white jacket. Byakuran couldn’t care less, really. His inner world is abuzzed with countless Byakurans offering mocking comfort and wordless laughter.

 _‘So, how did your meeting with your crush go?’_ Snickers one.

 _‘Was it good? Did you bat your lashes at him? Oh, I forget. Tsunayoshi-kun is never interested in you.’_ Mocks another.

 _‘Shut it, will you?’_ He aims back with light-hearted exasperation. It’s targeted at all of them. It’s masking subtle lethality. _‘Tsunayoshi-chan’s cute. You guys are just in denial.’_

Silence befalls most. Some take it as a challenge to prod right back.

The bell clinks and cries out with the young man—

“Ano…!”

Byakuran freezes. The city traffic roars in his ears.

The steps chasing up to him are loud, boots sinking into snow. Tsunayoshi pants lightly as he stops short before of him.

“It really isn’t right that you’re paying for my mistake…! So… here!” Tsunayoshi takes his coat hanging from his arm – a soft brown, fur-lined thing – and shoves it into Byakuran’s hands. “Please wear my coat instead!”

Byakuran is a disconnected observer for a moment, seated amongst the many that are constantly in his head, watching the movie play out in stunned silence. It takes a second for the words to come to him. A moment to remember he’s in the driver’s seat, not in the back.

“You… Are you looking for an excuse to skip work?” Byakuran teases, slightly troubled.

“H-Hah?” Tsunayoshi blinks, startled.

“Walking out in the middle of winter without a coat like that… No matter how you look at it, you’re clearly asking for an excuse to skip work, aren’t you?” Byakuran chuckles airily, unfolding the coat to pull over the brunette’s shoulders. Tsunayoshi steps back. “Come here now. It’s common knowledge that a mangaka has a killer schedule. You can’t afford to fall sick—”

Byakuran tries again and earns himself another duck that moves out of the way of his attack.

Tsunayoshi is pink in the winter cold. Byakuran peers at him incredulously over the edge of his coat.

“Are you a child or what?” He can’t believe this.

Tsunayoshi huffs, large rounded eyes impossible for Byakuran to get irritated at even when they try to convey his unimportant determination.

“P-Please, just accept the coat!” The brunette waves his closed hands at him. “I’d hate to make you sick because I stained your jacket with my coffee— _Achoo!_ ”

“Oooh? How admirable. The little squirrel wants to sacrifice himself in my stead. Your saintliness is worth applauding, if nothing else.” Byakuran mocks, an exasperated smile on his face at the sheer _cuteness_ at the other. (And no, he’s not afraid to admit it unlike his obviously lesser counterparts.)

With a lifetime of study and more on the obstinacy of the brunette before him, Byakuran gives in with a sigh and settles on pulling off his own white jacket.

“W-What—?”

Byakuran gives a fond huff at the bewilderedness painting that expression. He tucks the brunette into the edges of his own jacket, patting him down to make sure it fits him before shrugging on the oversized brown coat that’s just about the right size on him.

“Like this, is this good enough for you, Mangaka-chan?” He asks that tiny, perfectly kissable face.

Tsunayoshi is oblivious to his thoughts, letting out a soft hum at their current arrangement. A heart-skipping smile slips onto his lips.

“Mmh! This is good!” The brunette beams and Byakuran absolutely dies with the effort to not let a single shred of his adoration slip onto his face. Tsunayoshi holds onto the edge of his jacket, examining it. “Like this, I could also get rid of this stain for you when I’m home and…” He blinks at his watch and outright flips. “Ah! This is bad! Reborn’s _so_ going to kill me if I’m late for the appointment!”

“I’ll pass your jacket to the café staff when I’m done washing, so just remember to ask them for it!” The brunette throws over his shoulder as he races away.

“Hold on—”

He’s gone.

Byakuran stands, alone in the winter. He shudders at the warmth of the coat clinging onto him and smiles, endeared, in spite of the noisy murmuring of the many other him.

The coat smells faintly of cappuccino and mint.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of writing more, but we'll see if I'm motivated enough to do that.
> 
> Do kudos/bookmark/subscribe/comment to indicate your interest!


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